More or Less
by Syberian Quest
Summary: A series of drabbles following the "A Little is a Lot" weekly prompts. Latest: It is their time. Their time to destroy the ones she has come to love.
1. Sweet and Sour

_Fix the coffeemaker._

In other words, it's over. No more words are needed. He's already made it clear enough. Her bulletin board, covered from top to bottom in sticky-notes, ones scrawled in his unforgettable cursive handwriting, tell their story.

_Meet me at 7._

_You have beautiful eyes._

_Sorry. Not tonight. I have a meeting._

_Call me in a few days, okay?_

And it's all led up to this: _Fix the coffeemaker. _

It's strange how these tiny pieces of colored paper can reveal so much, how black Sharpie ink is capable of conveying their innermost thoughts without actually saying the words "It's over." Everything about them, every sweet and sour memory, is expressed on this wall. Their first date. His sweetest compliments. The rejection.

**Sharpies and sticky-notes make up their last memories.** From the beginning, when he first noticed her, to the end, when he got back together with _her_, they've been there, telling her what she didn't want to believe.

But they weren't the only ones.

As soon as she caught sight of him arm-in-arm with that reddish-haired girl in the parking lot, that should have been it. But _no_. She couldn't handle the truth, couldn't accept what it really meant about their entire relationship.

It was a farce.

He was using her the whole way through. It should have been obvious. What kind of guy gets a new girl the day after breaking up with his long-time girlfriend? Of course he was just making her jealous. And guess what? It worked.

The little green-eyed girl and her Prince Charming are back together, leaving Prince Charming's secretary yesterday's news. Is she bitter? Most definitely. Is there anything she can do about it? Not really. If her beauty wasn't enough to keep him, then what would? He's found his princess, and the only thing left to do is move on.

It's a shame that her heart won't let her.

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><p>AN - The first drabble of many for the "A Little is a Lot" Challenge by Another Artist. I am **_not_** competing but am doing this for my own personal benefit and enjoyment. I encourage all others to head over to her forum and join the fun. :)

As for the drabble itself, I think it's pretty self-explanatory. The woman in this one is obviously an OC, one that was "used" by Ian to make Amy jealous. I don't think it's that confusing, but correct me if I'm wrong.

Posted: May 24, 2011


	2. Uncovering the Lost

"Why are you here?"

Wiping her sweaty palms on her tattered trousers, she glanced up, allowing her dirt-stained trowel to sink in the mud beside her. Sunlight protruded through the hazy, Istanbul sky, temporarily blinding her, and she placed a hand over her eyes to shield them from the hot, unyielding sun. She blinked again as her eyes adjusted to the light and glanced at the shadowed figure casually leaning against a pile of crates to her right.

She stared at him blankly before emitting a wry smile. "Why do you think?"

The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, and he shifted his weight to the other side, clutching a water bottle tightly in his hand. "I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm digging for broken pottery. What does it look like?"

He gave a small laugh. "That's not what I meant. I was asking why you're here on this dig."

"Because it's my life. I was born for this." She didn't have to think twice about her answer. It came as naturally to her as breathing.

He stared out at all the sweaty forms of newly-graduated university students painfully laboring away in the hot sun from his sheltered location in the shade. "It's the same for them," he responded, "but after a week or two, most of them head home, sick of the heat. But not you." He gaze swiveled back to her. "And I'm curious as to why."

She shrugged, wiping at her wet brow and tightening her ponytail to keep loose hair from falling into her face. "I like uncovering the lost."

"Lost pieces of pottery?"

She cracked a smile. "Har, har. Very funny." She wiped her face again. "But as exciting as uncovering chipped pottery is, what I really love is discovering the secrets of people from long ago, lives that were completely forgotten. And broken pottery is a part of that."

"So, you like uncovering the lives of dead people?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "You're being a pain, you know that?"

He grinned at her before taking a long swig from his water bottle.

She shook her head. "Well, I like finding anything - or anyone- lost."

"Oh, so you're after the live ones, too, huh?"

She swiped some of the dirt off of her trouser legs, giving him a dirty look.

"Fine, I get it." His blue eyes flashed slightly as he swung one tanned arm against the side of the crates. "So, teach me. I've learned enough out here about finding the dead ones, but how about the live ones?"

"Excuse me?"

"How do you find a lost person?" he repeated.

"You show them the right way."

"And how do you do that?" he persisted.

She bit her lip, pondering the question. It was a tough one, and knowing that he was one of those lost didn't make it any easier to answer.

"I guess it's all about showing them what they're missing out on. Whether it's happiness, truth, love…" She glanced at him, wondering if he would pick up on her hidden message.

But his face was as expressionless as ever. "Okay, then, Ms. Smarty-Pants. But I'm still curious." A sober look instantly replaced his playful one, his face revealing someone sincerely searching for an honest answer. "**How can you find someone who was never lost to begin with?" he demanded.**

"Well," she began slowly, "I guess you can't." For a moment, she lifted her gaze, her jade eyes meeting his baby-blue ones in a solid stare. "But the thing is, most people who are lost don't even realize it."

His blue eyes searched hers. "And how do you find them then, if they don't even know they're lost?"

"Then," she stated, her gaze locked firmly with his, "the only thing you can do is make them realize their need to be found."

* * *

><p>AN - Well, this was obviously one about Arthur and Hope. I guess you could say Hope is trying to show Arthur that he's "lost," as he's still working with the Vespers, and Arthur is curious about who the "lost" really are.

_Posted: June 5_

_Word Count: 708_


	3. She Knows Best

"You're up early."

He glances up, startled, from his place at the kitchen table. She walks in, her slippers softly thudding against the wooden floor, before flicking on the light switch.

"Funny – I thought you'd be the last one up," she says casually as she begins to leaf through the kitchen cabinets.

He shrugs and stares wordlessly into his soggy Corn Pops, floating helplessly in a pool of lukewarm milk. Her back is to him as she retrieves spoons and bowls from the cupboards, but out of the corner of her eye, she can still distinguish his gloomy expression. Pulling out the bowls and placing them on the table, she gives him a look.

"Hamilton, talk to me. You've been like this since we got back from London. What's wrong?"

Reaching out, he pulls the half-empty box of Pops closer to him, partially blocking her from view. **He ignores her question and asks, "What kind of cereal do you prefer: Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Pops?"**

She glares at him and pushes the box out of the way. "What kind of question is that? You know I don't eat either of those disgusting sugar-filled heart-killers. I don't even know _why _we have those things here in the first place. I thought I banned them months ago!" She shakes her head disapprovingly and turns towards the fridge. "You're going soft, Hammer. All of us are, in fact. That's why I'm going to have to pull out the old protein powder-wheat germ-tofu-algae shake recipe and get this family back into shape!"

And despite the implication that he will once again be forced to consume that beyond-disgusting concoction, he pulls the box towards himself, a vain attempt at hiding the smug smile creeping across his face. He's successfully avoided her question – for now, anyway.

Tuning out her incessant yakking, he begins to pour himself another round of Pops when Mary-Todd suddenly whirls on him.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?"

He freezes as she marches over to him, ripping the box out of his hand while grabbing the remaining one with her other.

"These things are officially _banned _from this household."

Crumpling them in her hands - the sound of crumbling cereal making Hamilton cringe - she marches over to the nearest garbage can and tosses them in slam-dunk style. She turns around to face him, wiping her hands together victoriously. "Now, tell me what's bothering you."

Hamilton, who had been starting longingly at the discarded boxes of cereal, suddenly snaps out of his daze.

Mary-Todd gives him a knowing smile as she leans against the chair across from him. "Don't look so surprised. I'm your mother. I don't get sidetracked _that _easily."

He scowls as she seats herself across from him, and she pats one of his hands somewhat affectionately. "And as your mother, I can see that something's been eating you."

He looks down, refusing to meet her eyes.

"It wouldn't have something to do with you joining a certain computer club now, would it?"

Stunned to have his secret revealed, he glances back sharply. "You know?"

"Of course," she responds. "I'm your mother. I know everything."

"Reagan told you, didn't she?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets."

Rolling his eyes, he slumps back in his chair as he prepares to answer his mother's question. "Yeah. I guess that's it. It's just –" He pauses, groping for the right words. "I'm not sure how to ask _him_." He glances down. "I don't want to disappoint him."

His mother nods slowly, her hand still resting on his. "You know, Hamilton, I don't think you could ever disappoint him."

"Never?" Hamilton asks disbelievingly. "Not even if I started taking ballet lessons or something?"

"Okay," she admits, "he might be a _bit _disappointed – or disturbed – if you started taking ballet lessons. But," she adds, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, "I know he's very proud of you, just because you're his son."

"So I should ask him?"

"Definitely."

Hamilton smiles at his mother, and she gives him an affectionate one in return. Moments like these are rare in the Holt household, but when they occur, they are twice as meaningful.

"Now," she interrupts, ending the sappy moment abruptly as she pushes her chair out, "it's time to toughen you up again. Five protein powder-wheat germ-tofu-algae shakes coming up!" She snatches away his bowl of cereal. "No more junk food for you."

He sags back into his chair, rolling his head back in defeat. "_Ohhhhhhhhhh_."

* * *

><p>AN - Mary-Todd and Hamilton. Awesome mother-son relationship that's _never _explored. And of course, Mary-Todd always knows best - along with her protein powder-wheat germ-tofu-algae shakes.

_Posted: June 9, 2011_

_Words: 750 exactly. I was on the edge for this one!_


	4. The Arena

She was one face in a vast ocean of bystanders. Simply another spectator in the arena.

The arena of death.

Some would surely find it gruesome, but she never had. From the very moment they placed her there, she was captivated by the deadly lock in which the players were all so deeply ensnared. They were master masqueraders, feigning innocence, veiling their little brawls from those who inadvertently found themselves at the mercy of these warring tyrants. But from her front-row seat, nothing could escape her eye.

She saw everything.

Every victory, every loss, every weakness – nothing was kept secret from her. They made sure of it.

She would place her bets on one team, learn to foresee their next moves, study anything that she could possibly use against them. It was all a part of their plan. Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.

But there was one thing that they never foresaw: She began to see them as more than just pawns.

There were the beautiful but cruel British children, ones she could feel herself too easily resonate with (but of course, they were like her, even if they didn't know it), who had once seemed so strong but were left so utterly fragile.

And there were the ones in purple jumpsuits with such big biceps and such seemingly small brains. With something akin to awe, she watched as they all but moved mountains, as the boy and girl broke free from the unspoken rules that told them what they could and could not do.

She saw the Harvard drop-out face his uncle, the spy confront past demons, the superstar find himself, the triplets holding onto each other against all odds, and against those very same odds, she found herself in possession of a new kind of respect for those two young players, so fresh with naivety and innocence.

She fell in love with the enemy.

When they put her in the front row, there was a glass wall that separated the two of them. And at first, she couldn't help but wonder how stupid these fools were, all fighting against each other. **She wondered if they realized all they did was run around in circles all day.** With sticks and stones, lies and treachery, they chased each other back and forth across the arena, back and forth, always back and forth.

But that was good. Because if they were so busy fighting each other, how could they possibly notice her?

Of course, there were those few times when it seemed as though they were beginning to understand that, but whenever it happened, a new spark was ignited just in time to keep them fighting. By _her_. She was instructed to never let the flame die.

Keep them burning.

And so she did. But something happened. One day while fanning the flames, it suddenly struck her that she was burning someone.

Which one?

All of them.

Lucian Ekat _Janus _**Tomas ***Madrigal_*_

But they were the enemy, the interlopers, keeping her from world dom-

They were people.

A rainbow of colors - music rising to the heavens, the thrill of conquering the highest peak, the dawn of a golden age, the fate of the world.

And suddenly, she respected them. Pitted against each other from such a young age, just as she had been against them, no wonder they could never stop running in circles.

But then there was the hunt. With bated breath, she observed, wondering who would come out victorious, or at least, closest to it. (After all, only the Vespers could truly win.)

First it was the spy, then the Janus, then the Holts, but of course, there were always the Kabras, so far in the lead – but wait, what about those two newcomers? Could they possibly bring this fighting to an end?

They did.

When they were in the gauntlet, when a ceasefire was called, she suddenly realized the spark had finally been smothered. There was still smoke, but the flame had been extinguished. Which meant she had to start it again. But this time, she needed to create an explosion.

And so, after all these years, her turn had finally come. She and her allies would finally enter the arena. It was their time.

Their time for world domination, their time to take what was rightfully theirs-

Their time to destroy the ones she had come to love.

* * *

><p>AN - I'm sure you all got the basic idea. This OC is a Vesper, but of course, I had to put a twist on it. In a way, I see her as being somewhat like us readers, being able to see everything that the characters go through and getting to know them without ever actually meeting them, but despite the fact that she has been trained to hate them, she begins to become attached to them. Just like us. Often, we find ourselves feeling like we personally know someone we don't, whether a fictional character or contestant on T.V. show, and if they die or lose, it brings us down. So, I suppose that's where this comes in. Because honestly, I don't think all the Vespers are going to be terribly evil. (We need at least one good guy, don't we?)

_Words: 738_

_Posted: June 19, 2011_

**Update: I've labeled this story as complete because, as much as I'd like to, I doubt I will ever continue with the prompts. I shall leave what's up here, though, for anyone who might happen to enjoy what I did finish. :)**


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